Nasty Russian …
It burned. Not because Natasha’s anger wasn’t justified. After those Chelomeys?Chyort,I handed her over on a silver platter! Asked them to protect her. She had every right to hate. But my love for her had not been Russian enough to shield her from it.
“Well, it’s been years since you took an L, King Karo,” I muttered my UFC name.
I leaned back on the couch and pressed my hands on top of my head, grounding myself. Secrets had never divided us. Not until she’d experienced bullying in her senior year of high school. Never understood why she’d kept it to herself. My son, Vassilievich, who was three years younger than her, had just started high school. He broke the news to us.
And I had made a mistake.Bol’shie oshibki—a big mistake.I thought I’d protected her by transferring her to a private schoolin Tarzana. How clever of me! I sat across from Aleksandr Chelomey—theublyudkafather—at dinner and requested his protection inhisdistrict. I thought business could protect what love could not. I gave him respect, my word that the Resnov Bratva wouldn’t step foot in their crappy little territory north of Los Angeles.Then what did he do? Adrian roofied my daughter after the prom. Tried to touch her!
All evening, I sat in my study, a bottle of Resnov Water in my clutch. No shot glass. I drank the vodka straight, thinking about how my daughter viewed her own ethnicity.This hurts.Beyond any UFC blow.
My cellphone lit up on the glass desk.
I pressed the speaker button on the first ring. “Took you long enough.”
“Sorry,‘k?zn,” Yuri said.
“You look into the elevator camera?”
“Da.”
“Okay! Give me something. A name. It took you half a day to?—”
“We got problems, Vassili.”
Gripping the neck of the bottle, I took another swig. “Give me the truth.”
“Our hacker says the cameras aren’t working for the elevator all day. The only footage of Natasha is from the cancer unit corridors. She meets with Dr. Gan … Gangham.”
“Ghannam.” I corrected. The blood doctor, due to his advancements in leukemia treatment, held my respect. And he was Middle Eastern. “Not our guy. What about the parking structure cameras?”
“Dead. Our hacker believes they might be on the same surveillance system. Perhaps a malfunction.”
“Too convenient.” I climbed out of the chair. “Tell her guard no more slipups!”
“Da, understood.”
“If he cannot do his job?Ubey yego.” I ordered his death, then tore the rest of my command through tensed lips. “Reassign my daughter to a better bodyguard. Someone … not Russian.” It tore me up inside to say this. But it served two purposes. My daughter was afraid of her own blood—for now. I’d need to find her a new therapist if Dr. Vashone didn’t help her with these Chelomey triggers.
That settled things. I was turning into the version of Anatoly Resnov that was relentless. And possibly paranoid if elevator guy made a move on a gorgeous girl.
The wrong gorgeous girl.
6
LACHLAN
They were gainingon me like a nightmare. Thundered footsteps and barked laughter chased me like a storm.
“Cam, throw it! Throw it!”
“Get ‘em! Get thatbawbag!”
Both Brodys, my dad and my eldest brother, we called Little Brody, just to distinguish the two gigantic bears, gunned for my demise.
But I wasn’t going down, my tennies pounding the dirt. Bragging rights were in front of me.
Ten feet.
